Dreams of Spiders
by danielleb3ar
Summary: The dreams come and go- they swim in my head, weaving in and out in the fabric of my thoughts. They confuse me with real memories and fictitious dreams...I turn my face to the side, and smile. Isn't that right, baby? Character death. Angsty stuff.


The dreams come and go- they swim in my head, weaving in and out in the fabric of my thoughts. They confuse me with real memories and fictitious dreams.

I stared at the wall, watching the colors melt, swirl and whirl, dripping little rainbows that end with a small pop in my head. The walls, the floor and the ceiling were throbbing with a life of their own...  
Muffled screams, choked sobs, murmured comforts resound in my hollow being...haunting me as I walk in the world of the living. I pass by a window store and had to stare at the girl staring back at me. Dead. Empty. A desecrated tomb of despair and loneliness. I walk on...

Reality has passed me...I looked around wanting to taste what life is again as I gazed at "them". Watching them dance away their teenage life. I stretched out my bony hand towards them, wanting them to take me into their world, wanting, wanting but I know, I know I will never again be them. I'm too broken, too far gone to be...

My clothes are as ragged as I look. My jeans stained with dirt and dried blood. My shirt is more holes than cloth. I started picking at the too-tight bandages on my too bony wrists, wincing ever so slightly as the gap gets wider, as the circle of blood gets wider. I hate this body, hate what I have become, and I long to die, but I can't. I always, almost die...always almost...I am through quickly and the lint falls off revealing my pathetic suicide attempt. A tear fell in the gaping wound, mixing with the crimson...pathetic. Almost always escaping...

I swallowed. Fumbled for a cigarette in my bag. My lips part as I gaze at you. Get away from me—you are not real...you are not here at all...but I see you. I hear you...but I can never touch you again...I'll always stare at you from afar. Gazing at your beauty...

I stare at the blank wall before me for what seems like an age. Still you do not move. I stare at my wrists instead. The blood has stopped again and has created a new lump of deep red crystals, merging with the brown ones beside it. I wonder to myself if ours was a love story...

You were so beautiful then. I remember us laughing and running through the grassy plain, under the bright moon and stars. You told me you will never leave me, that you always are with me. Your hair was the finest ebony that night, so dark, so long and fragrant. My heart was full to bursting with love. We talked about out future then, our young, blooming love...

And then he came.

I was like a discarded toy. Left there to gather dust and to never see the sunshine again. You left me for a guy. I wasn't enough. Never was enough. I couldn't give what he had. He was Apollo, the sun while I was just Artemis, the moon. He was the perfect male specimen, someone for you.  
But you, in yourself, weren't enough for him. He gave you vices. Cigarettes and alcohol. He said it makes you a lady. He said it was sexy. I confronted you one drinking night you had. That was my mistake. I told you off, that you didn't need those drugs! That you were perfect, that you were mine. I grabbed you by the shoulders, trying to stop you as you twisted away. You were enraged. You pulled away so hard, I let go too easily—you're beautiful neck met the unyielding stones, I saw the apology in your eyes, you knew I guess. Then that fateful crack.

And then you were gone.

But still you are here. Crying. Reaching out to me. A hand I cannot take no matter what I do. Don't cry baby...don't cry. I'm here… I'll get to you…I'll reach you...someday. If I ever escape this body...I'm coming...

I stand up, stooping to pick up my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. Still I stare at the ground, at the cigarette still smoldering. It will continue after I have left, just like the teenagers playing on the grass. Life goes on. That much I know. I just wish it could go on without me.

I turn to walk home, and when I raise my head the sun burns my eyes, and I curse the day. Later, I will curse the night.

There is nothing in the absence of the people who make life worth while. Once you get rid of them, it is pointless. But other people will live, and maybe, someday, there will be a person as great as her, who will make someone else's life worthwhile. Let's hope they get a better chance than we did.

I turn my face to the side, and smile. Isn't that right, baby?

You smile back and put your arm about my waist, and together we walk into the too bright sun, and the harsh reality that I no longer occupy. Someday, maybe I'll be free.


End file.
